


Mint Tea

by watashi_no_akuma_to_notatakai



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watashi_no_akuma_to_notatakai/pseuds/watashi_no_akuma_to_notatakai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>shitty prompt fill for lovely anon+friend prompt:<br/>Koala hug, and fighting over the TV remote</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mint Tea

**Author's Note:**

> I suck I rushed I suck sorry *sweats

 

 

> _"Every now and then the stars align." - 'Lucky Ones' Lana Del Rey_

* * *

 

 

The infamous voice of David Attenborough echoes through the speakers, and Murphy watches the vivid TV screen hypnotized, as it details creatures immersed in the azure-blue sea.  
The sofa cushions are arranged in a haphazard den that fit Murphy's contorted position like a well-worn glove. He smiles.  
  
 _A Blue Whale's tongues alone can weigh as much as an elephant. Their hearts, as much as a car._  
  
Murphy's reverie under the ocean is interrupted by the heavy presence of Bellamy allocating himself directly on top of Murphy's outstretched legs with a huff. Murphy's eyes are still trained on the screen as he frowns.

He knows what's coming, and his furrowed brows are just daring Bellamy to initiate it.

He doesn't have long to wait.

"It's my turn for the TV, Murphy."

Murphy tauntingly lifts the remote to press the volume down to zero. He inclines his neck, every so slowly turning his face towards Bellamy; emanating how pissed he is at the interruption with every movement.

His eyes narrow as they meet Bellamy's rich brown irises.

"I'm watching something."

Murphy doesn't to turn back to the TV but keeps his eyes on the intrusive brunette while raising the volume again, flaunting the remote like the last slice of bread in the fridge. ~~Bellamy never buys enough bread.~~

Bellamy is wearing only navy, flannel pajama pants, bronze shoulders slightly perspiring steam from his recent shower. His side is arched against the couch, elbow resting on the side, head supported by the flat of his fist.

Bellamy's smirk melts into a frown matching Murphy's and the tension can be felt in wavelengths.  
  
 _Blue whales occasionally swim in small groups but usually alone or in pairs. They are thought to form close attachments._  
  
"My show is coming on in about 20 seconds, Murphy. Pass the remote." Bellamy's voice is low, tentative.  
  
Murphy flashes a sarcastic smile. "Yeah. Cause I totally give a shit."  
  
He expects Bellamy to back off, since Murphy usually wins these little clashes of interest. It's intriguing, actually. Bellamy has such a rouge personality. He's so proud and forward, while Murphy is usually more standoffish. Yet over the years, Bellamy's been known to let Murphy walk all over him.  
  
Bellamy is a magnetic person; people seemed to flock to him, were always eager to give him what he wanted.

Murphy would rather rip out his own fingernails than succumb to Bellamy's every want and whim. Even so, he never left Murphy's side, almost clinging to him like a fading dream. It still shocked the long-haired man sometimes, to know that Bellamy would still be hanging around after things turned sour.  
  
Murphy feels fingers brush softly over the hand empty of the remote.

"Murphy..." Bellamy recites his name with a delicate exhale. Murphy's heartbeat falters at the sound and annoyance seeps into his voice.

"If you think you're going to fuck me for the remote then you're more dense than you were yesterday." He snaps, but doesn't mean for it to come out so harshly.

He shoots Bellamy a withering look that is intended to soften the blow of his words but his eyes catch on the rare, playful expression Bellamy wears. His head is tilted almost unnoticeably as he smiles, eyes crinkled in the corner, and it gives rise to the soft indent of a dimple on his left cheek.  
  
Murphy doesn't have the forewarning to prepare himself as Bellamy crashes into him, pressing his back against the cushions, ruining his fort and knocking the remote from his hand. The taller brunette's hands are splayed against Murphy's chest as he chuckles heavily, leaning over him.  
  
"I asked nicely." Bellamy grins.  
  
Murphy is peeved, hair tousled against the arm of the seat, and neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. He narrows his eyes at his attacker, snorting in annoyance.  
  
"What are you going to do about it?"

Bellamy slowly lifts the edges of Murphy's shirt, fingertips warm, leaving trails of heat across his exposed stomach. Murphy shudders at the contact and at this point, Murphy has resigned himself to whatever deviance Bellamy has in mind.

That is, until the canine-baring grin spreads across Bellamy's face.  
  
It happens fast. And it is utterly debilitating.

Bellamy reaches both hands to either side of Murphy's rib cage and begins to assault him with rapid jabs.

Murphy keels over, trying to get away but is too busy trying to stop roaring with laughter at that same time.

"I knew it! I knew you were ticklish." Murphy's boyfriend croons in laughter above him as Murphy cringes and thrashes atop the cushions.

"Please...stop it!...ah! Ha...Bellamy I swear!" Murphy has tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he tries to breathe through the assault and utter embarrassment.  
  
"You should've given me the remote when I asked!" Bellamy retorts without remorse.

He continues tickling Murphy, as the smaller curls up beneath him, trying to hit Bellamy with weak-boned limbs. Their legs hook between each other as Murphy squirms in discontent.

Bellamy's lips jut out as he leans forward and extends them into a blinding smile. Murphy's manages to get a grip on Bellamy's neck in the process and he uses the opportunity to pull him down until their lips meet. They clash painfully but both rapidly meld into the kiss. Murphy's neck begins to ache almost instantly but he cant find the breath nor motivation in him to complain.

Murphy can't help but expel a breathy chuckle as Bellamy laughs joyfully against his mouth. The chaos is heartening, and soon Murphy stops trying to fight it at he focuses solely on attempting to consume oxygen. With one last fell swoop, Bellamy extends his reach to Murphy's lower back and the recoil has Murphy rolling haphazardly off the couch, and directly into the affronting coffee table.  
  
His head hits the wooden corner with a sharp slap.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
It's Bellamy yelling, trying to lift Murphy from his landing spot on the floor in a flurry of apology because Murphy can barely see straight, let alone speak.

Murphy presses a hand to the right plane of his forehead with a barely suppressed groan.  
  
"Murphy? Murphy, are you alright?" Bellamy's voice is too loud for the designated occasion.  
  
"Shut the fuck up..." Murphy manages to grumble, wincing with each syllable.

He twists himself in between the coffee table and the couch, now sporting an apocalyptic migraine as he relaxes his head against the dingy carpet.  
  
Bellamy easily removes his hand from where a bruise already seems to be forming and closely examines it.

"Murphy, you gotta get up, and put some ice on it."  
  
"I said. Fuck off. You fucking fuck."  
  
Bellamy sighs, unbothered by the vehemence in the others voice. He crouches on the carpet and slowly gathers up Murphy's limbs, enveloping him in an odd embrace.  
  
"Hold on." Bellamy speaks lowly into Murphy's ear.

With Bellamy's queue, he wraps his legs around Bellamy's waist and his arms tighten around the others neck. Bellamy slowly lifts himself to his feet, legs only strained slightly at the added weight. He carries Murphy like this, past the kitchen and into the bedroom, slowly depositing him on his side of the mattress.  
  
"I'm going to get some ice, okay?" Bellamy asks, not waiting for a reply.  
  
Murphy pulls the blankets up around his shoulders, cringing as he tries to stave of the pounding headache with slow, precarious, movements. He huffs in reverence at how shitty the day has turned out.

He would have to catch the ending of that particular Planet Earth another time, Bellamy now knew about his well-guarded secret, and he currently had a flaming bruise to fit the mood. He releases some of the tension wired in his bones by sighing heavily and cracking his knuckles underneath the warm blankets.  
  
When Bellamy enters, the calamity in Murphy's head has tuned down quite a bit. Bellamy carries an icepack in one hand and a steaming cup of what looks to be mint tea in the other, as far as Murphy can tell through his half-squinted eyes.  
  
Bellamy deftly relocates under the covers with Murphy, setting his cup on the nightstand and reaching over to press the chilled pack against Murphy's brow.  
  
"Wrong side, you idiot." Murphy growls. Murphy snatches the pack from the Bellamy, roughly turning himself to face away as he holds it against his sore skull.  
  
"Tch." Bellamy resounds, sipping at his still boiling tea.  
  
"You know you can go watch your stupid show now. You don't have to sit with me in here." Murphy spills the words out like he's doing Bellamy a favour just by offering, though it's not how he truly feels. Bellamy, leaning with his back against the headboard sighs in apathy.

Murphy feels fingers pushing away the inky locks of his bangs from behind him. They trail to the back of his head, massaging the layers of his shadowy chocolate hair.  
  
"It's alright, I've already missed the beginning. You know how I hate that."  
  
Murphy hums his affirmation.

As the high-stringed emotions of the evening slowly seep out of Murphy and into the melting ice formula, Murphy begins to regret his aggressive demeanour. His eyes close as they revel in the comfortable silence until Murphy finds the right time to break it.  
  
"Sorry...you know, for just being me."  
  
Bellamy sighs through his nose and gathers the covers as he leans downs evenly by Murphy, his chest against Murphy's back.

Bellamy's arms tighten around Murphy's waist within the plush confines of their sheets as he speaks, light brushes of fatigue traced into his voice.  
  
"I wouldn't have you any other way." He mumbles quietly.  
  
Murphy turns his smile into the feather-filled pillow, making sure that his captor can't see the satisfaction etched into his face.

Bellamy strokes at the wayward strands of hair tucked behind Murphy's ear and draws out a sigh of content. In retrospect, the movement should remind him of a mother's caress, but Murphy has never felt a comfort like this before Bellamy. And even if he had, he's sure he would sell every kind act he'd ever gotten, for moments like this. It wasn't like he was particularly deserving of them either, at times he knew he was lucky.

He was lucky to have found someone like Bellamy to join him in his shitstorm of a life, but also steer him away from the raucous storms of shit. He was lucky to fall asleep to the warmth and sound of another steady heartbeat, rather then the ringing knock of flesh on metal and paranoid yelling.

He was just lucky, he supposed, though Bellamy would say different. Bellamy would probably say some shit about it being written in the stars.

Bellamy sighs against the back of Murphy's head in even repetition and Murphy has a difficult time keeping his eyelashes from fluttering closed.

It is like this that they fall into the depths of sleep, hanging onto each other like rafts intertwined in the midst of an infinite ocean.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *sorry for bringing up Murphy's shitty mother in practically every fic, but that episode revelation really hurt me. Protect the tsundere babus 2k14. Also I always write stuff with injuries to the forehead irdk why*  
> also I will never stop using that shitstorm reference  
> I will squeeze out every last drop of the use of the statement shitstorm before I die.  
> please send prompt/requests so we can build the Murphamy fandom together! yayo, also check out the amaze 100 blog grumpygrounders.tumblr.com


End file.
